


Big Warm Fuzzy Secret Heart

by APictureofaGull



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Computer Programming, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Pining Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APictureofaGull/pseuds/APictureofaGull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a programmer stuck in a tedious job because he won’t let himself quit until he asks the hot office manager for his number, or his first name. But Derek’s ability to act like a tool gets in a way, as it so often does, and things don’t quite go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Warm Fuzzy Secret Heart

**Author's Note:**

> The story is heavily inspired by Jonathan Coulton’s song [Code Monkey ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYodWEKCuGg) with their interactions in the first half being mostly lifted from the lyrics. It was meant to be short and silly, but then it sort of grew legs and became a cheesy rom-com.
> 
> If you want to you can find me on [Tumblr.](http://apictureofagull.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This is unbeta’d, so please feel free to point out any mistakes.

Monday came far too early, as it always did. Derek dragged himself out of bed, and made a cup of strong coffee. And then a second cup when remembered he had a meeting with his manager first thing that morning. His manager, Peter, was easily one of the most boring people Derek had ever met. That was saying something; Derek was a software programmer, he knew a lot of boring people. Lots of people probably thought Derek was boring, but at least Derek wasn’t like Peter. Peter knew he was boring, and tortured all his underlings with as much tedium as he could possibly produce. Tormenting Derek also seemed to be Peter’s favourite Monday morning pick me up.

This particular Monday Peter was on sparkling form.

“Derek,” Peter drawled. “I think we both know why I’ve called you in this morning.”

Because this was a weekly meeting, it happened every Monday. Derek nodded.

“I know you are capable of producing good work. That’s why I am so disappointed with the standard of the code you submitted last Wednesday. Let me tell you a story about a time...” Peter continued, but Derek stopped paying attention.

Derek continued to look at Peter, saying nothing. The login page definitely hadn’t been his finest work. Which was understandable, considering that Derek had thrown it together in an hour Wednesday afternoon after spending the rest of the day messing around on the internet.

“I’ll be honest Derek. I would almost be okay with the fact that it doesn’t have the elegance that a prestigious organisation like Beacon Hills expects, but it’s not even functional.”

That made Derek’s blood boil. If Peter really wanted an elegant, functional piece of code, he should have given Derek something to do that wasn’t completely mind-numbingly mundane. Also, if Peter thought Beacon Hills was so worthy of ‘elegant’ coding, he should write the god damn thing himself, because Derek definitely didn’t have any incentive to produce elegant code for Beacon Hills. Derek remained quiet and nodded.

“I’m so glad we understand each other. I expect a revised version tomorrow. Thank you Derek.” Peter looked up to see Derek hadn’t moved. “Remember to close the door behind you.”

The only good thing about Monday meetings with Peter was the excuse they gave Derek to walk past the front desk. Stilinski, the office manager, was the only reason Derek hadn't quit yet. Sad and stalkery as it was, Derek had made a vow not to give his notice at this hellhole until he had asked Stilinski for his number or first name. Hopefully both. With Derek’s abysmal social skills, that didn’t seem like it was going to happen any time soon.

“Morning Stilinski,” Derek called over to him, trying his best to remain casual, as if he hadn’t walked out of his way to pass the front desk. Stilinski smiled at him then pointed at his headset while mouthing ‘on the phone.’

“Oh sorry,” Derek mumbled, and scurried back to his desk.

Once there be opened the text editor and considered the login page that Peter had found so lacking. Derek stared at the code and quickly identified five major improvements. Then he ignored them and decided to go to the vending machine for a Mountain Dew. Via the front desk.

“I’m going to the vending machine. Can I buy you a soda?” As Derek asked, Stilinski looked up from his desk, and shook his head. Oh god, that face. “I know they’re warm, but I could get you a glass and some ice from the break room.”

Stilinski was smiling now, Derek felt his heart rate begin to speed up. Stilinski’s body language wasn’t telling Derek to go away. He might even be leaning toward Derek, but that was probably wishful thinking.

“No thanks dude, I’ve sworn off soda. I’m trying to get in shape,” Stilinski explained, poking himself in the gut. Derek suppressed the urge to tell Stilinski he was already the perfect shape, because that would be creepy. Stilinski was still smiling up at Derek though. Okay, conversation that didn’t revolve around Mountain Dew, Derek could do that.

Then the phone rang. Fuck.

“Good Morning. Beacon Hills,” Stilinski said suddenly. “Ah, Mr. Finstock, of course.” He turned to catch Derek’s eye, then mouthed ‘sorry.’

‘No problem,’ Derek mouthed back, but Stilinski wasn’t looking at him anymore, he had turned to face the window, and was chewing on the end of a pen in a ridiculously enticing manner. Derek walked to the vending machine to buy the Mountain Dew he no longer wanted.

Back at his desk, Derek continued staring at the offending code for at least another hour. Eventually, he started working, or at least, pretending to work. The afternoon consisted mainly of writing the lyrics to You Shook Me All Night Long into the code then commenting them out. Five thirty came before Derek expected, leaving him to scramble to finish and submit the login page.

///

When Derek walked into the office Tuesday morning, he was not prepared for the sight of Stilinski wearing a form fitting red sweater. “Good sweater,” Derek said, a bit too loudly

Stilinski put a long finger to his lips. ‘Peter,’ he mouthed. Then he started speaking, “Yes, of course, Peter. Right away.”

Sighing, Derek made his way back to his desk. He logged on to his computer, filled a mug with water, read about seven news articles online, finished his water, filled it again, then started sorting through his email. Just as he was sending Mark from three desks over some suggested dates for the strategy meeting, his phone rang. Derek was so surprised he almost fell of his chair. The caller ID read: Internal - Front Desk. Shit, it kept getting worse.

“Hello IT, Derek Hale speaking.”

“Good Morning Hale.” There was a pause. Was Stilinski expecting him to say something? Oh god, say something. Then Stilinski spoke again. “This is Stilinski, from the front desk. I was processing your submission for Peter from yesterday. I think there might be a mistake.” Maybe Derek was imagining it, but it sounded like Stilinski was suppressing laughter.

“What?”

“I opened up your submission, to make sure it wasn’t blank. About three lines in it says,” there was a pause. Okay, so Stilinski was definitely laughing. Terror gripped Derek and he contemplated hanging up. “It says: the job description said fulfilling tasks that will allow the candidate to explore creative solutions, I should sue for false advertising. Dude, fucking ballsy. Not smart though.”

“I forgot to delete that,” Derek murmured, mostly to himself.

“Then, at the end, there is what looks like the lyrics to AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long. But I’m pretty sure she knocked him out with her American _thighs_ , not pies. Imagine those pies though; they’d break your teeth if you tried to bite into them. I’d love to wield pie in a fight. That would be epic.”

“Uhh,” was all Derek could manage to say. At least he wasn’t the only one embarrassing himself. Not that Stilinski seemed embarrassed. Actually, he sounded like he was enjoying his own babbling.

“Anyway dude, I’ll delete all that for you before I pass it on to Peter, but I’m not sure what I can get rid of since I don’t know...”

“Java,” Derek found himself supplying.

“So if you want to come over here and delete it, that’d be pretty cool. See ya.” Then he hung up. Derek hurried to the front desk, and found Stilinski waiting for him, shaking with suppressed laughter.

“I’m so sorry, I-” Derek began, but Stilinski interrupted him.

“Chill dude. There is a reason I look at these before I pass them on. You have no idea how many times Greenberg has accidently turned in blank shi-stuff.” Stilinski paused; he might have been waiting for Derek to speak. “But if you want to make it up to me you can teach me what I can delete, and what is actually code.” Smirking, he pointed at the text editor open on his screen.

Derek clambered behind the desk, squeezing into the small space next to Stilinski. His face started to feel hot; he wasn’t sure if was because they were basically on top of each other or because what he had written just seemed so much more childish now. “You can delete anything that’s a comment.” Derek pointed at the line about suing for false advertising, wincing a little. “A comment is any line with two backslashes in front of it.”

“Cool,” Stilinski took the mouse in his hand and deleted Derek’s inappropriate comments, before pressing save. “This programming thing, it’s not so hard.” Derek snorted, and rolled his eyes. Reluctantly, Derek stood up, getting ready to go back to his desk. In the process he rested a hand on Stilinski’s shoulder.

“It’s new, a birthday present,” Stilinski said. That didn’t make any sense, and Derek felt himself pull a face in response. Stilinski laughed. “Your eyebrows are something else. I’m talking about the sweater. You said it looked good, this morning. When I was on the phone with Peter.”

Derek wished he had more control over his eyebrows. Or his face in general. “Right, yeah. Happy Birthday.”

“Well, it was actually, last week, but thanks,” Stilinski replied, looking up at Derek.

Oh shit, he wanted to have a conversation. That was wonderful. Okay, conversation, Derek could do that. “So, uh, how old are you?” Really? Did he just ask that? That was what you asked kids. Adults didn’t ask other adults how old they were just because they had a birthday.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty twooooo,” Stilinski sang, badly. He even did a little dance. It really should not have been attractive, but Derek felt himself smile.

“Oh no! My singing was so terrible it broke your face,” Stilinski teased. Suddenly, Derek frowned. “False alarm, normal service has resumed. Mr. Serious has returned.” This made Derek scowl.

Before Derek had a chance to say anything Peter appeared. “Good morning gentlemen.”

“Morning,” Derek and Stilinski chorused back.

Peter raised an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth at them, silently questioning what Derek was doing at the front desk. Luckily, Stilinski was quick, “Derek was helping me with my computer.” Stilinski used his first name. Now Derek definitely had grounds to ask him his. Some other time, when Peter wasn’t smirking at them.

“I didn’t realise programmers were happy to lower themselves to the role of tech support,” Peter said mildly. Then, more seriously, “Stilinski, I’d like to see you in my office to go over those contacts we discussed this morning.”

“Of course, I’ll be right there.” Stilinski started shuffling pens and paper on his desk. Derek walked back to his cubicle, unsure of what to make of the interaction.

///

When Derek arrived at work on Thursday, Stilinski was waiting for him. He tried to channel calm as his heart leapt in his chest.

“You lied to me Derek. I am inconsolable, you’ve betrayed my trust.” Stilinski waved his arms dramatically as he spoke. There was a smile on his face though, so he was probably joking. This was a very weird way to start the morning.

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Okay, well you omitted important things. All the important things were omitted. Do you know Erica? The programming intern?”

Derek nodded. That was a strange turn for the conversation to take. Of course Derek knew Erica; he was the one that recommended her for the internship. She had been in his seminar group when he was a TA his last year in college.

“Her comments are different than yours. In her code. I asked her about it yesterday. Come here, look.” Stilinski waved Derek over, indicating Derek should stand next to him in the small space behind the desk again. Derek obeyed, and found himself looking at a page of Java that just oozed Erica. It was clever, brief and the comments were borderline aggressive.

“She likes to use a different type of comment,” Derek explained.

“I got that part. I’m not totally oblivious. Teach me all the comments, then I’ll be happy.”

“I thought you said you were inconsolable,” Derek said, before he could stop himself. Why was he such a tool?

Surprisingly, Stilinski smiled. “Touché, Mr. Hale. Touché. But yeah, make with the teaching, then you will be forgiven.”

A little flabbergasted, Derek leaned forward over Stilinski, their heads level. It was incredibly unfair, Stilinski smelled like sugary coffee and leaves. Somehow Derek managed to give Stilinski a comprehensive five minute course on comments in Java, with a bit of background on general comments without doing anything inappropriate before the phone rang, and Derek had to go back to his desk.

Later, Derek cornered Erica in the break room. “So you’re friends with Stilinski?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Erica shrugged, stepping aside so Derek couldn’t loom over her anymore. “I wouldn’t say friends. I tolerate his existence, and he has the best office gossip.”

“What’s his first name?” Derek was aware this was cheating, but he had tried to ask yesterday, and couldn’t work up the courage. Guerrilla tactics were in order. Erica didn’t respond. “He told me, but I didn’t hear it, so I don’t want to ask again,” Derek lied.

Derek shouldn’t have been surprised when Erica threw her head back and cackled. Her hand was warm when she patted Derek’s chest. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, then breezed past him out of the break room.

///

On Monday Derek started the day by finishing Isaac’s milk. He felt a little guilty, but dry cheerios were impossible.

Stilinski wasn’t at the front desk when Derek arrived at work, which was mildly disappointing. The light on his answering machine was blinking ominously when he arrived at his desk. He avoided it for about as long as he could, writing thorough replies to each of the emails he had received over the weekend. The feeling of the clunky plastic receiver against his ear made Derek uneasy, nothing good ever came from listening to his answering machine, but he reminded himself that he could get fired for ignoring it.

“Happy Monday Captain Serious,” Stilinski’s voice floated out after the pre-recorded answering machine woman’s. “Just calling to say I enjoyed your note in your submission to Peter on Friday, which I of course deleted. I didn’t have you pegged as a bath kind of guy. Not that I think of you in the bath, you just seem like you’d shower, you know? Also, coffee cake? Seriously? Coffee cake tastes like a memorial service. Maybe if you ate happier cake you’d be less of a robot. My recommendation would be ice cream cake, that’s basically the definition of a happy cake.” There was a pause. “Anyway Peter is going to come in soon, soooo I’m going to hang up.” Then another pause. “Bye.”

Once he put the receiver back down, Derek realised he was smiling and maybe even blushing a little. That was bad. He rearranged his features and locked down the part of his brain that was telling him to call the front desk. It must not have worked, because Peter commented on Derek’s apparent good mood in their meeting that morning.

Derek didn’t get a chance to speak to Stilinski before he left for the day, but he was particularly productive. Most of what he wrote that day would probably even qualify as ‘elegant’ in Peter-speak. So much so that he felt the urge to rework it in a more ham-fisted way for the sake of consistency, but that would have required more effort than this menial job was worth.

As Derek was getting into his Camaro to drive home that evening, someone called his name. For a moment Derek considered ignoring them and driving off. It was probably Peter trying to get Derek to do unpaid overtime. Again.

“Oh come _on_ , I know you heard me Derek!” Stilinski appeared around the monstrous Yukon parked next to Derek’s car.

“I need to borrow your phone.” Stilinski stretched his open hand toward Derek.

Derek sighed, and got back out of the car. Sure, he thought Stilinski was alright. Okay, he had completely office inappropriate feelings for his big hands and ridiculous way of speaking, but that didn’t mean Derek was just going to hand over his phone.

“Please?” Stilinski sounded like he was making a concession to a petulant child, not asking Derek for a favour. Derek bristled but pulled his phone out of his pocket and dropped it into Stilinski’s still outstretched hand. Damn those irresistible hands.

Before Derek had time to register what was going on, Stilinski had disappeared behind the Yukon again. For a moment Derek thought Stilinski had just stolen his phone, but then he heard Stilinski’s voice very close by.

“Yes again. I’m aware it’s a piece of shit, but it’s my piece of shit. It’s less of a jeep and more of a travelling memory box. We’ve been through a lot together. I even lost my vir-uh I mean, copy of Virgil’s Aeneid in it,” Stilinski paused; the other person must have been speaking. Derek was aware he probably shouldn’t be listening, but fuck it, the guy had just walked off with Derek’s phone. “Yeah, agreed, let’s never talk about that again. Anyway, when does your shift end?” Another pause. Stilinski pulled a disgusted face. “Ugh, that’s like forever.” His features softened again as the other person spoke. “Love you too Dad, see you.”

Stilinski came around the corner again, heading toward Derek, who was leaning against the side of his car in what he hoped was a casual manner. “Thanks man. My phone died earlier today, and now my car won’t start. It never rains, or whatever.” Stilinski shrugged, and handed the phone back to Derek, who pocketed it.

They were both quiet for a while, then Stilinski asked, “Is that your boyfriend?”

Derek looked over his shoulder to check that they were definitely the only people in the parking lot before asking, “Who?”

“The wallpaper on your phone. Cute guy, young, like borderline robbing the cradle young, curly hair, flipping the camera off.”

Confused, Derek got his phone out of his pocket again. He was sure that his wallpaper was the default that came with the phone, he had never changed it. Sure enough, when he powered the screen on Isaac’s face was smiling up at him, middle finger out of focus in the front of the shot. The fact that he hasn't noticed was a sad testament to the fact that no one really contacted Derek. “No, he’s my roommate,” Derek growled.

“And you have a picture of him flipping you off as your wallpaper because?”

For a moment, Derek considered it for a moment before the answer came to him. “I used his milk.”

Stilinski raised an eyebrow. “Okay. That’s not really an explanation. You get that right? I’m going to need to you say more words.”

Derek huffed, then opened his mouth to speak and said, “Where do you live?” That’s not what he meant to say. The face Stilinski made looked distinctly like what Derek imagined someone would look like if they had been slapped with a fish. He waited a beat, but Stilinski remained quiet. Ladies and gentleman, Derek Hale had just performed a miracle. “If it’s not too out of the way, I’ll drive you home. You won’t have to wait for your dad.”

“Berkley Avenue. Four blocks east of the university,” Stilinski supplied, having snapped out of his shock more quickly than Derek had anticipated.

“That’s on my way.” Or it wasn’t more than forty five minutes out of Derek’s way anyway.

“Let me borrow your phone again so I can tell my dad I’ve got a ride.” Derek pressed the phone into Stilinski’s outstretched hand again. Ugh, those hands were so unfair. Stilinski dialled, and held the phone to his ear, but this time didn’t disappear behind the Yukon. “Hey dad, it’s me again. A guy from work is gonna drive me home.” He paused. “No, I’m not going to tell you his name, because I know you’ll use it to do a background check.” Another pause, then a sarcastic, fake laugh. “Hold on, I’ll ask him.” Now Stilinski turned to Derek. “Are you a murderer?” Stilinski didn’t wait for a response before returning his attention to the phone. “He’s not a murderer, and I think more terrible things could happen to me while I’m sitting alone in a parking lot for four hours waiting for you to finish work. Bye.” Stilinski passed the phone back to Derek, then flounced to the passenger side door of Derek’s Camaro.

Derek slid into his seat and turned the key in the ignition. Stilinski sat next to him, fidgeting a little. “I’m assuming if I asked you if I could drive, you’d say no.”

“I’d say no,” Derek agreed. With his foot on the clutch, he selected reverse then waited for Stilinski to settle. Really, who adjusts their seat in someone else’s car? That had to be against some sort of social rules. Once Stilinski had finished messing with his chair, he fastened his seatbelt and planted his feet squarely on the dashboard.

“Your legs are going to snap like twigs,” Derek said, more annoyed than was reasonable.

“I just told my dad you weren’t a murderer. He's the county sheriff. If you hurt me there would be a manhunt the likes of which you've never seen. Unless you're on the run for murder. You're not, are you?” This, Derek thought, was probably not the time to mention that he had been once, but he had been cleared, was it?

While Stilinski was speaking Derek reached out toward his feet that were still firmly planted on the dashboard. For a moment he felt the urge to push them violently to the ground, but he took two deep breaths and thought of his therapist. Instead he put his hand on Stilinski's left shoe and said. “Calm down and put your feet on the floor. Didn't your dad teach you it's not safe to ride the dash?”

Stilinski let his legs drop with a thump. Derek took that as his cue to reverse out of the spot.

“I'm an adult, I don't have to do what dad says anymore. Not that I really listened to him when I was a teenager, but whatever. It makes life more interesting. I bet you don't always do what your parents say.”

“They're dead,” Derek grunted, shifting into fourth after pulling out onto the main road. He knew he shouldn't have said it, but something in him enjoyed the sick rise he got out of people's reactions.

“Shit, sorry dude.” Stilinski said, looking out the window. He paused for a moment, then said, “My mom's dead,” more to the window than to Derek. Then another pause. What was Derek supposed to say to that? “Okay that didn't make it any less awkward. Lighter topics, what does your roommate's milk have to do with the picture on your phone?”

“I finished his milk with my breakfast. He must have changed my wallpaper when I was in the shower as revenge,” Derek explained, glad for the change of subject. Maybe having the PIN on his phone set to his birthday wasn't the best choice. Mostly he just felt guilty about upsetting Isaac.

Stilinski raised an eyebrow. “That's a really passive-aggressive form of revenge.”

Derek just nodded. Stilinski didn't want to know that Isaac and Derek had a complicated relationship. He didn't care that Isaac, like Erika, has been one of Derek's students and that Derek had helped Isaac run away from his abusive father, that Isaac had taken on Derek as an incredibly lacking father figure.

When Derek stopped thinking about Isaac and how he might make it up to him, he noticed Stilinski was staring at him. “Your face is like a black hole for happiness.” Stilinski stated. Derek opened his mouth to object, but Stilinski interrupted. “So if the job is so unfulfilling, why have you been here for over a year? Normal people quit when they're unhappy, or do you enjoy the pain?” Stilinski flailed a little, he seemed to be excited by his own thoughts. “Is it like fertiliser for your stubble?”

“I enjoy some aspects of working at Beacon Hills that aren't related to my job.” Derek smiled to himself, satisfied with how successfully cryptic is statement was.

“In other words, you have an office crush,” Stilinski said bluntly, making Derek's face fall into a frown. It deepened to a scowl when Stilinski proceeded to laugh triumphantly. “Who? Who? You've got to tell me dude!”

“No, I don’t,” Derek said through gritted teeth. “If you want, I can stop the car and let you out here. I heard someone was shot at the Burger King over there a month ago.”

“Wow, defensive much?” Stilinski seemed unmoved by Derek’s threats. “I’ll figure it out on my own, that’s more fun anyway.” Stilinski’s face skewed and he wrung his hands. Silence stretched between them for a good few minutes. Derek maintained the silence, unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed that they had stopped talking. “Soooo,” Stilinski broke the silence, “Your crush... is it Erica?”

Affronted, Derek had to take a moment and make himself focus on the road again. “No!”

“Dude, don’t freak out, she’s super hot. Even if you’re not into women, she’s-”

“I’m bisexual,” Derek growled. Shit, he may as well have announced he was interested in Stilinski. “But I’m not _into_ Erica. Don’t think about her like that!”

Stilinski frowned. “I don’t need to, she does it for me, with those tight skirts, and seductive eating of fruit,” he trailed off. For a moment Derek considered throttling Stilinski for having filthy daydreams about Erica in _Derek’s_ car.

“Is she your sister?” Stilinski asked while the voice in Derek’s head that sounded like his therapist controlled Derek’s urge to strangle Stilinski, or Erica, he wasn’t entirely sure which. “You’re acting like she’s your sister.”

“No. She was in my five person seminar group when I was a TA.”

“Ah, so these are feelings of teacher-y protection?”

Derek nodded.

“She never mentioned that you knew each other,” Stilinski said, his face thoughtful. “I mean we’ve talked about you before, and she never brought it up. Did you do something to her?”

For a moment Derek contemplated spilling out all his feelings, then he decided better of it and shrugged instead. “I wasn’t a very good teacher so Erica and another one of the students, Vernon, requested a transfer to a different TA’s group halfway through the semester. Their request was denied and it was,” Derek searched for a less emotive word, “awkward.”

“Oh,” was Stilinski’s only response. So maybe Derek had over-shared. “The guy I live with,” Derek felt his heart skip, hopefully that meant roommate not live-in boyfriend “majored in computer science too. He tried to get transferred to another seminar two days in but they wouldn’t let him, so he barely showed up to seminars. The TA he had was _terrible_ , so you can take comfort in the fact that you weren’t as bad as him.”

Derek knew he was an awful TA, Erica and Vernon were completely right to try to switch, but Stilinski’s words still made him smile a little. “Okay, here we are. Where should I stop?” Derek slowed the car.

“Anywhere after that dumpster up there. I’m easy like Sunday morning.” His eyes widened suddenly, having realised what he said. “I mean I don’t care where you stop, not that I’m easy. I’m actually really difficult to have sex with. Oh god. I mean, I’ve been told sex with me is enjoyable, but I that getting you, I mean someone, to have sex with me is hard.” He paused for a beat, as if considering his options. “I’m going to get out of the car now.”

“Good.” Derek found himself saying, as he stopped the car.

Stilinski opened the passenger side door and slipped out onto the sidewalk. Then he thumped the roof of Derek’s Camaro twice, before leaning in the window. “Thanks for the ride man.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Okay, he didn’t mean to say that, he was supposed to say ‘no problem’ because he wasn't a dick. Well, he wasn’t a dick all the time.

“See you tomorrow!” And Stilinski was gone, walking along the sidewalk and down the driveway of a small house.

Derek pulled back onto the road, getting ready to honk once at Stilinski and wave goodbye. That didn’t quite happen though, as Stilinski embraced a man waiting outside the house for him. Okay, so Stilinski did mean live-in boyfriend. Worse, Derek recognised the guy, Scott McCall, the student who had tried to get transferred out of Derek’s seminar after the first lesson. Fuck, fuck, fuck. All plans for a further farewell abandoned, Derek sped to the store to buy Isaac two gallons of milk, a bag of gummy bears and absolutely no tequila for himself.

///

Over the course of the next few days panic crept from Derek’s ever tightening chest to his toes, then all the way to his back up to his brain. His hands shook. The overwhelming, powerful feeling of betrayal, directed at no one in particular, while not a stranger to Derek, he didn’t welcome it’s return. He only allowed himself two days of wallowing, and avoiding Stilinski while at work, before he decided that enough was enough.

After a weekend of careful consideration and deliberation, Derek went to Erica at her desk. “Miss Reyes, a word please.”

Erica’s eyes flicked to Greenberg, who sat at the desk next to her’s, then back to Derek. “Sure.” The chair squeaked as Erica stood, then she marched to break room without looking back to see if Derek was following her. “What do you want?” she demanded, her eyebrows raised.

“I’m going to quit.” Erica’s expression didn’t change. “Today, in the meeting with Peter.”

“Okay?” Erica shrugged her shoulders. “What do you want from me? A gold star?”

Derek sighed and bit his lower lip to stop the growl he felt building in his chest. “I thought-”

“We are _not_ friends,” Erica interrupted. Derek flinched as if she had slapped him.

“I got you this co-op.”

“That doesn’t make us friends.” Erica’s hands flew to her hips and her eyes narrowed. “I took the job because I needed it. I have a mountain of student loans; I’m not going to pass up getting paid. Even it means being a code monkey like you,” her index finger pressed into Derek’s chest, “I’ll get something I like once I’m done with college.”

Before Derek could argue, Erica whipped around, hair billowing behind her and marched out of the break room. Derek paced the length of the room three times before the wall clock caught his eye, he was going to be late to his meeting with Peter. Aware that it didn’t really matter anymore, Derek ran to Peter’s office, avoiding the front desk.

When Derek arrived, Peter was already waiting for him, the latest version of the login page displayed on the monitor.

“I really enjoyed your latest revision. See what you’re capable of when you apply yourself?” Peter thumped Derek on the shoulder and smiled his creepy smile. “It’s such a shame that you only really get it right every couple of weeks.”

Derek inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly. “Peter, I need to speak to you about something.”

Peter smiled knowingly, taking Derek in. “A raise is entirely out of the question. I admire the balls that took though, well done.” He thumped Derek on the shoulder again.

“No,” Derek said, through gritted teeth. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, he unclenched his jaw. “Please consider this my notice.”

Peter stood suddenly. “Your notice? You’re quitting?” He cocked his head and looked around the room, as if he were trying to find hidden cameras. “Are you serious?” he asked, amusement plain in his voice.

“Yes!” Derek found he suddenly had an uncomfortably loose grip on his temper.

After a few moments of silence, Peter turned his face to the ceiling and closed his eyes, before looking back at Derek. “If that’s what you want, fine. Please go pack up your desk immediately.”

Confused, Derek stiffened. “The notice period in my contract is a month.”

“And I don’t want you working on sensitive projects that you could inform our competitors about in that time.” Peter’s tone was sickly sweet. “You’ll get paid for the month, don’t worry.”

Derek nodded, not entirely sure what else to do. He had been certain that he’d be working for another month, being made to leave immediately was completely unexpected.

“Please send Mr. Stilinski in on your way back to your desk.” Peter grinned evilly and a sat back down. When Derek didn’t move, shock rooting him to the spot, Peter spoke again. “You’re usually so keen to speak to Mr. Stilinski,” he said, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Derek clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. “Of course,” he said, before marching out the door. As he closed the door, he was sure he heard Peter snicker.

“Hey Derek, thanks for the ride last week,” Stilinski chimed when Derek rounded the corner.

“Fine, whatever. Peter wants to see you,” Derek said through clenched teeth.

“Okay. Someone is a ray of sunshine this morning. Is this about the easy like Sunday morning thing?” Stilinski looked down at the phone, picked up the receiver and pressed a button, putting someone on hold before even speaking to them.

“No, it’s my problem.” Derek turned to leave, then remembered his promise to himself. Anger with Peter made adrenaline surge through his body. He turned back toward Stilinski who was now picking up a pad a paper. “What’s your name?”

“What?” Stilinski looked up from his desk. “Oh, it’s Stilinski.”

“No, I mean your first name.”

Stilinski barked a disbelieving laugh. “I’m not going to tell you that.” He reddened. Derek felt heat rush to his face. Embarrassment now mingling with his anger he trotted back to his desk without looking back at Stilinski.

Derek spent the next week sending out his updated résumé to just about any job he was qualified for in a fit of regret. The following week his inbox filled with rejections. Derek began spending almost all day in bed and not watching 10 Things I Hate About You even once, and especially not four times.

///

Derek awoke to someone smacking the soles of his bare feet. Reflexively he sat up and grabbed at the offending hand, trying to topple the person into bed. His attacker seemed to anticipate the move, and anchored themselves somehow. Slowly, Derek’s brain and eyes began processing at full speed. “Cora?” He dropped her hand.

“Good morning brother dearest,” Cora greeted in a monotone, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Why aren’t you in class?” Derek demanded, feeling anger build in his chest. He was older, he helped raise her, and she could not condescend to him. Okay, she could and did, but Derek didn’t have to like it.

Cora treated him to a sweet smile. “It’s Saturday, which you would know if you weren’t so busy wallowing in self pity.” Derek grabbed a pillow and contemplated throwing it at her. Cora looked from the pillow to Derek’s face then rolled her eyes. “I’ve got you an interview for a fully funded PhD Tuesday at one; you’ll get an email about it on Monday.”

Derek stared at her, trying to process what she had just said.

“This is where you say thank you.”

“Thank you Cora,” Derek mumbled. “How did you do that? And why?”

“Because you weren’t going to do it, and I had a copy of your résumé after you sent it to me to read over.” Cora rifled through her messenger bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, which she handed to Derek before sitting down on the bed next to him. “Here’s the description of what you’d be doing.”

Derek scanned the page; the subject was artificial intelligence, making his heart leap. “I didn’t see this advertised when I looked last week.” He would have remembered if he had.

“It’s being advertised internally first, but Professor Deaton mentioned it to me when I met him for lunch Thursday.” Derek’s eyebrows shot up his forehead and he reached out to press a hand on Cora’s shoulder. After a second of hesitation, Cora wrenched her shoulder away. “I’m not dating him so untwist your boxer briefs,” she said, voice completely free of emotion. Over the next five minutes Cora explained how she had found out that Deaton, a psychology professor, had written several papers on AI with their mom, and how he and Cora now met for lunch every couple of weeks to talk about her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cora shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested. You and I don’t usually do the emotion thing. Which reminds me.” She rounded on him. “Isaac told me you’re moping over some guy at work.” The tilt of her head and the way she looked out at him from under her lashes told Derek she was completely unimpressed with him.

“She literally twisted my arm to get that information!” Isaac called out from somewhere in the apartment.

Before Derek could register it had happened, Cora had jumped up and pounded against the closed bedroom door. “Stop eavesdropping!” There was a distant sound, which Derek was sure was Isaac squeaking and running back to his room.

“He lives with his boyfriend,” Derek told Cora as she sat down next to him again.

She looked up at him and placed her hand on his knee. “I have no sympathy Derek. Find someone more available, you’re hot and damaged, it’ll be easy.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “This is why we don’t talk about feelings.”

Cora thumped her hand against his thigh. “This was a good talk.” She got up, picked up her bag, and walked toward the door. “Don’t wear your ridiculous leather jacket on Tuesday.”

///

Derek put on his leather jacket as he left the house on Tuesday, but he left it in his car when he arrived at the university. Memories came flooding back to Derek as he strolled through the quad and other open areas. They started fading again as he made his way through the unknown halls of social sciences, trying to find the psychology professors’ offices. Deaton’s office was one of the first in the long hallway, with a simple plaque on the door. Derek took a deep breath in then knocked twice.

“Come in,” a voice called from within. Derek pushed the door open to find a bald man sitting at the desk. When he saw Derek he stood and extended his hand. Derek shook it. “You must be Derek.”

“It’s good to meet you Professor Deaton.”

“Please, call me Alan. Take a seat.” He indicated to the chair across the desk from him and sat down. Derek did as he was told. “I’m sorry, but I have to say, you look even more like Talia than Cora does.”

The rest of the interview was … interesting. Alan never quite explained what exactly Derek would be doing, but from what he did say Derek was very interested. He left the office with only one worry, he would be working along with some computer science masters students, which could mean two years of awkwardly tip-toeing around Vernon or Erica. But he would be continuing the work his mom loved so much, and in the end that would be worth putting up with almost anything.

///

Two weeks later Derek got a phone call from a number he didn’t recognise while he was preparing cereal. “Derek Hale,” he said after swiping to accept the call.

“Good morning Derek, Alan Deaton here.”

“Good morning Alan.” Derek put away the cereal box and abandoned the bowl. The he walked quickly over to the sofa and took a seat.

“Remember when you said that your recommendation from your former boss at Beacon Hills wouldn’t be particularly positive?”

Derek nodded, then realised Alan couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

“Well it came through to me today, and it’s.” Alan paused for a beat. “It’s very positive.

Derek furrowed his brow. “That’s weird.”

“It’s also lucky, that was the only black mark on your application. I expect the department will approve my choice within the next two days. Goodbye Derek.”

“Bye,” Derek said, but Alan had already hung up. He walked back to the kitchen and recovered his abandoned cereal, fetching a spoon on the way. As he sat on the sofa, eating his cheerios, Derek wondered what Peter stood to gain from writing Derek a positive reference, and what exactly Alan had meant by his ‘choice’.

///

After four weeks of sitting around getting thrashed at Mario Kart by Isaac and Cora and secretly watching Disney movies, Derek was glad to get up early and wear a suit. Most of his first day was spent planning and settling in. His biggest accomplishments were figuring out how to work the coffee machine and getting Alan to approve the draft Gantt chart he had made for the project. Derek had the feeling if he didn't nail down exactly what he wanted to do Alan was going to continue making vague affirmations about Derek's thesis.

On his second day Alan promised to introduce him to the other students and fellows working on connected projects. Derek wasn’t sure if he was happy to find out the dreaded Comp Sci masters student would have to wait until the afternoon. First Derek was introduced to the psychology postdocs he would be working with, Marin and Julia. Derek got the impression that they were both capable and intelligent and he was sure they'd be excellent at their work, but they way they looked at him was unnerving. It was like they could see his soul and found it wanting. Happily, Alan said that he would usually be there when Derek met with Marin and Julia. Despite the fact that Alan gave very little away and didn’t seem to like describing anything fully, Derek somehow felt he was an ally.

After meeting with the postdocs, Derek joined Cora for lunch, or she ate lunch and watched him destroy a banana before confiscating his apple and eating it herself. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, polishing the apple on her hoodie. Derek shook his head, and stared at his lap. “Thank fuck.” Cora then began eating the apple with gusto. Somehow, Derek didn’t even notice when Cora got up and left with a redheaded girl until she threw the core of the apple at his head. “Good luck,” she said, then strutted off with her friend.

When Derek got back to his office Alan was already there, having an animated discussion with a young man Derek recognised immediately: Scott McCall. For a brief moment Derek actually contemplated running, never to return again. It would be literally running, since his car keys were in his desk drawer. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled as he opened the door.

“Ah, good afternoon Derek.” Alan turned toward Derek. “I’d like to introduce the computer science masters candidate that will be working on part of your project with you, Scott McCall.”

Scott leaned forward, extending his hand for Derek to shake. Derek shook it, then turned to Alan. “Actually, we know each other.”

“Oh, well then I’ll leave you two to it.” Alan gave Scott a hesitant smile, then let himself out.

When Scott showed Derek his extensive detailed plan for his master’s project he was impressed despite himself. He could only make two legitimate suggestions for changes to the plan, and both of them were really nitpicking. Scott, curse him, had already started some coding, even getting far enough that he wanted Derek to have a look at it, so they arranged to meet at Scott’s office next week.

///

Since Derek didn’t know the area of the university where Scott’s office was, he ended up showing up fifteen minutes early for their meeting. When he arrived, Scott wasn’t there, but one of the other students who shared the office let Derek in and told him to sit in Scott’s chair.

The sight of Scott's desk pulled at Derek’s heartstrings, framed photographs took up almost more space on it than the laptop and notebooks. A woman who looked enough like Scott to be his mother, or aunt, or some other close relative, beamed up at Derek with a nursing diploma held securely in her hands. Then a series of three photographs is a single frame caught Derek’s eye. After weeks of not seeing and barely thinking of Stilinski, Derek was surprised to feel his chest tighten at the sight of him. Each of the photographs was of Scott and Stilinski: first as small children playing on a jungle gym, then as teenagers playing lacrosse, and finally one that must have been very recently where they were playing beer pong dressed as Chewbacca and Han Solo.

“I went a bit overboard with decorating,” Scott said, leaning over Derek’s shoulder.

“No, it’s nice.” Derek was surprised to find he wasn’t lying. “How long have you known each other?”

Scott looked at the photo Derek was pointing at, of him and Stilinski as children. “Since we were seven, but I think we’re eight in that photo.”

“Wow.” Derek suddenly felt like a home wrecker for having daydreamed about reading in bed with Stilinski while Stilinski spoke at length about his day. “I know him,” guilt made him confess.

“Who?”

Derek pointed at a teenaged Stilinski in lacrosse gear with his arm around Scott. “Your boyfriend.” Scott’s eyes widened and his brow furrowed in way that Derek would have thought impossible had he not just witnessed it. “Stilinski and I worked together at Beacon Hills,” he explained.

Then suddenly Scott was smiling, knowingly. Oh god, he knew Derek had thrown himself at his boyfriend. Well fuck. “You’re _that_ Derek. St-,” he stopped mid-word, smiling even wider. “ _Stilinski_ said you gave him a ride home a few months ago.”

Derek nodded. “His jeep broke down.” Then Derek realised what he was saying. “But you already know that.” Scott just continued grinning widely. It was starting to unnerve Derek, who was now sure that Scott and Stilinski laughed at Derek the love struck puppy at home, in their bed, reading books and talking about their days. Get a grip Derek. “How about you fire up your machine so I can take a look at what you’ve done so far.”

///

Two weeks later Derek was having trouble with his code. He didn’t miss being a code monkey, but he hadn’t stretched his actually interesting programming muscles in so long that he thought he might have sprained something.

“Stilinski and I are having a party Saturday, you should come.” Scott’s voice broke Derek out of the trance he had put himself trying to find the missing end in his series of nested if statements.

“Uhh,” is all he managed to say, not quite sure how Scott had suddenly turned up in his office.

“Some of the other guys from your old seminar will be there. Do you still keep in touch with any of them?” Somehow Scott seemed to think that would make Derek want to attend, instead of making him want to put as much distance between himself and the possibility of awkwardly making small talk with people who rightfully hated him as possible.

Derek nodded slowly. “Isaac’s my roommate, actually.” He paused for a minute, debating whether to continue. “I still talk to Erica as well.”

Scott looked surprised. “I haven’t seen Isaac since graduation. How is he?” Then, with a sudden burst of excitement, he added, “You should bring him to the party.”

Derek frowned, unsure how to get out of this. Seeing Stilinski and Scott happy together surrounded by their friends was bad enough, but adding the seminar students who he had failed so badly as a teacher was a recipe for pure torture. "Isaac's fine. He's working for a small engineering firm downtown. Mainly troubleshooting and improving their central system, but he likes it."

They spoke about Isaac for a while. It was a fairly safe subject as they both seemed to have a soft spot for him. Then the topic moved to Erica, who according to Scott got engaged to Vernon three months ago while working at Beacon Hills. So Derek and Erica really weren’t friends. Also, Vernon apparently preferred to go by his last name, Boyd; no wonder he hated Derek. Eventually, Derek had to leave to speak with Marin.

“So, I’ll see you Saturday,” Scott stated as he grabbed this stuff.

“No, I don’t think I can make it. I have plans”

“You’re lying Derek.” Scott smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little.

“I’m not.”

Scott laughed. “Come on man.” For a few moments he seemed to be deciding whether to continue speaking or not. “It’d make Stilinski really happy if you showed up.”

Derek felt himself make a face, he never got the impression that Stilinski really cared that Derek quit. Even Greenberg had sent him an email suggesting they should meet at a bar for beers after Derek left. They hadn’t, but at least Greenberg had sent the email, Derek hadn’t heard anything from Stilinski. Not that he had been hoping to, desperately refreshing his email for the first few weeks after he left.

“I’m serious.” Scott wasn’t smiling anymore. “Please Derek.”

That was probably just Scott being a bit intense, he was like that sometimes. Derek nodded. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“Bring booze,” Scott chirped and bounced out the door.

///

The doorbell rang Saturday evening when Derek was half way through trimming his stubble. Isaac must have been blasting music in his room again, because Derek eventually had to put down the trimmers and answer the door with one quarter of his face much shaggier than the rest.

“Your carriage awaits,” Cora said, her tone dripping with sarcasm as always. With her outstretched arms she indicated her car parked on the street.

Derek was stunned into silence. They didn’t have plans. Because he wasn’t exactly brother of the year, he contemplated how mad she would be if he turned her down to go to Stilinski’s party. No, he couldn’t do that. That was disappointing, he didn’t even realise he actually wanted to go until now.

“You’re going to Scott McCall’s party, right?” Cora asked brow furrowed in concern. “Because you’re wearing your fuck me jeans, and I really hope it’s not for Isaac’s benefit.”

“Don’t worry Cora; I’d never be that desperate.” Isaac, smelling of aftershave and wearing a scarf, had come to stand next to Derek at some point that Derek didn’t register.

Cora gave him a curt approving nod. “I’m going too,” she explained, speaking slowly and looking Derek directly in the eye. “Lydia invited me.” She indicated her car again with a tilt of her head. Sure enough, Derek noticed someone sitting in the passenger seat with the light on. It looked like she was applying makeup using the rear-view mirror. “She’s a friend of Scott’s. Go finish your face and finish getting dressed. Isaac and I will wait for you in the car.”

Derek looked down at his shirt, she had to mean his shirt; she had already approved of his jeans. Or as close to approval as Cora ever came anyway. “I _was_ finished getting dressed. Is there something wrong with this shirt?” He grabbed a bit of the purple v-neck between his fingers and pulled.

“No,” Cora said quickly. “It’s fine.”

While Cora spoke, Isaac considered Derek. “It’s a bit low cut.” Then he added, “I’ll go get the beer,” before flouncing off to the kitchen.

Derek deliberated for a moment before pulling the shirt over his head. His gym membership had been sorely neglected since he started his PhD, the shirt probably _was_ too low cut. Cora grabbed at the hem and started tugging it back over his head. “No, no, no,” she insisted. “Keep it on. It looks good, I swear.” For once she sounded earnest. “I just didn’t realise you were going full-court press on getting laid tonight.” She smiled, and he smiled back, smoothing out some of the wrinkles in the t-shirt.

Cora followed Derek into the house as he went back to the bathroom to trim the rest of his facial hair. “I’m not planning to have sex tonight!” he shouted over the buzzing of the trimmers.

At first Derek thought Cora hadn’t heard him, she considered him so long before yelling so he could hear her. “Your office crush is going to be there, isn’t he?”

“He’s Scott McCall’s boyfriend!” Derek turned off the trimmers and inspected his face in the mirror. As he was turning his head he noticed that Cora had come to stand behind him. Slowly, she put her hand on his shoulder.

“Derek.” Her tone was somewhere between sympathy and frustration. All Derek could think to do in response was shrug and smile weakly. While they were walking to the door, still shoulder to shoulder, Cora furrowed her brow. “I didn’t realise Scott McCall had a boyfriend. I thought he’d been single since Lydia’s friend Allison broke up with him.”

“Well he does.” Derek smiled grimly down at Cora, who lifted her chin up at him and raised her eyebrows.

In Cora’s car, Isaac was sitting in the back seat, his body curled protectively around the six pack of Miller Lite. Derek slid in next to him and Cora got into the driver’s seat. As Cora backed out onto the road, Derek offered his hand to her friend, Lydia. “I’m Derek, Cora’s older brother; it’s nice to meet you.”

“I know,” she replied taking the offered hand and shaking it; Derek wasn’t sure exactly which statement she was referring to.

“Lydia, do you know if Scott has a boyfriend?” Cora asked.

Lydia’s attention whipped from Derek back to Cora. “He doesn’t. Why?” Suddenly her attention was on Isaac. “Do you have a crush on Scott?”

“Please, let’s not talk about this,” Derek insisted.

“Good, it’s really boring.” Lydia looked Derek up and down. “Let’s talk about something else. For example, why do you look like you should sound like batman, when you actually sound like Zac Efron?”

As Derek sat there, absolutely dumbstruck, he noticed Cora, the traitor, choking on a laugh out of the corner of his eye.

///

When they arrived at the party, Cora and Lydia abandoned Derek and Isaac almost immediately. Then, after about twenty minutes, Isaac found someone he knew and pressed two cans of the Miller Lite into Derek’s hands before disappearing into the crowd with his friend. Derek was actually relieved to be alone as it gave him the chance to think about what Lydia had said. He was sure Scott had said that Stilinski was his boyfriend, but if they were living together why didn’t a friend that seemed as close Lydia know about it?

“You came!” Scott was beaming at Derek, his fist clenched around a plastic cup of something that looked fruity. It took a moment for Derek to realise Scott had extended the cup at him to clink with Derek’s can of beer.

“I did,” he said, knocking their drinks together carefully. Suddenly, it struck Derek that he could just ask Scott, right now. Plain and simple. “I was talking to your friend Lydia-” Okay, not quite plain and simple.

Scott’s eyes widened, and he promptly stopped drinking mid-sip. “T-to Lydia?”

Derek nodded. “She’s friends with my sister. But what I wanted to ask was-” Derek stopped because Scott was now waving one of his arms wildly while standing on tiptoe and not paying any attention to Derek.

"Hey Scotty!” a voice called from behind Derek. “Is that the hot PhD student you wanted to introduce me to? He looks a bit muscular for my taste but if...” Suspecting the speaker was now right behind him, Derek turned around. “Oh my God. _Derek?_ ”

Derek was suddenly face to face with Stilinski, their noses scant inches apart. He almost jumped out of his skin. “Stilinski!”

“I think there may have been some confusion earlier. Derek Hale, I think you’ve met Stilinski, he’s my roommate, not my boyfriend.” Scott was grinning ear to ear, eyes dancing wickedly as he spoke. When both Derek and Stilinski didn’t say anything for a while he continued, “he likes to be called Stiles. Or maybe, since it’s you Derek, he’d probably also like Honey Bear or Sweetums or Tasty-”

“Scott McCall, I am going to go to your room, get your baseball bat, cover it in glue, coat it in broken glass and beat you to _death_ with it.” Stilinski-Stiles-had stretched himself to his full height and was now doing his best to loom over Scott. “You knew, you fucking knew for _weeks_ and you didn’t tell me all so you could have your own Sebastian for the Little Mermaid moment. You are the _worst_.”

As Stiles continued his tirade against a still smiling Scott, Derek edged away. Honestly, he wasn’t quite sure what to think about what had happened. That was definitely not a side of Stiles Derek had ever seen before, and he was pretty sure he didn’t like it. So Derek did what Derek did best: he found Cora and tried to convince her to drive him home where there was a pint of Ben & Jerry’s waiting for him. Cora did what Cora did best: she said no. The only thing Derek could think to do was find a quiet place, so he searched the house until he came to an unoccupied bedroom. A part of him knew that it was kind of creepy to go and sit in someone else’s bedroom, especially when they weren’t there, but Derek had trouble caring. He dropped himself in the swiveling desk chair and surfed the internet on his phone, while drinking his beer. He texted Cora, so she knew where to come get him when she was ready to leave.

Three quarters of the way through his third can of Miller Lite, Isaac had found him at some point and pressed it into his hands, Derek realised someone else had entered the room. Probably it’s owner. Oh shit. “Fucking Jackson and his fucking hands,” they mumbled. Then in a mocking imitation of a deep male voice, “watch where you’re going, these jeans cost more than you make in two days. You’re such a klutz.” He continued in his normal voice, “At least I’m not a huge tool” Then there was a rustling noise.

They hadn’t noticed Derek, so he turned the chair around. “I’m here,” he said to a half naked Stiles, because he couldn’t think of anything else.

In the midst of pulling a shirt from a dresser, Stiles froze, then he grasped desperately at the shirt and clutched it to his bare chest. “I fucking noticed. How is this my life?” he pleaded to the room at large. Derek shrugged. “Look, Derek, I’m sorry about earlier.” Stiles flailed a little, as if he just realised his state of undress and pulled the new t-shirt on before taking a few hesitant steps closer to Derek. “I’d like to say that that’s not me, that it’s out of character or something, but that would be total horseshit.” Derek just stared, not sure what to make of the admission. "I felt betrayed, so I lashed out. It's what I do. I- Are you going to answer that?”

Derek was suddenly aware that his phone was ringing. “Sorry.” He looked down at the screen, where the display read ‘Cora Hale.’ “Hello?”

“I’m ready to leave. Isaac’s getting a ride with someone else. Lydia and I are already in the car.”

“Okay,” Derek said, but Cora had already ended the call.

“Who was that?” Stiles asked.

“My sister. She’s leaving, and she’s my designated driver so I have to go with her.”

“You brought your sister to the party?” Stiles looked puzzled.

“No, Scott’s friend Lydia invited her.”

“Lydia’s my friend,” Stiles mumbled absently, lost in thought. “Is your sister the one with the,” he scowled and crossed his arms in an uncanny impression of Cora. It melted some of the coolness that Derek had felt for Stiles after what he had said to Scott, he may have even smiled. “From the feminist club?”

Derek nodded. “Cora.”

There was a short standoff where it seemed they were both deciding whether or not to speak. “Well bye.” Stiles broke the silence. “I hope you had a good time despite all the-,” Stiles gestured at himself.

“Yeah,” Derek said. Stiles looked like he almost wanted to speak, but then decided against it. “Bye.” Derek made his way out to the car, dodging Scott in the kitchen along the way.

“-wanted to go home,” Cora was saying as Derek slid into the back seat.

“Why?” Lydia asked, completely ignoring Derek.

Cora made eye contact with Derek in the rear-view mirror as she pulled onto the road. “Derek and Stilinski-”

“Stiles,” Lydia corrected.

“Stiles. They worked together and were both harbouring ridiculous crushes on each other.” Derek made an attempt to say Stiles didn’t return Derek’s feelings, but Lydia shushed him. “They were both too oblivious to notice. Now Derek is working with Scott, who he thought was Stiles’s boyfriend, on his PhD. Scott played them both, and invited Derek to the party with the intention of shoving their faces together and going ‘now kiss’ only Stiles freaked out at Scott instead. Derek is in turn freaked out and hid for the rest of the party. Did I miss anything?”

Derek shook his head.

“So Stiles ripping Scott a new one scared you?” Lydia asked, turning to look at Derek.

He avoided her gaze. “He threatened to bludgeon Scott with a bat covered in broken glass.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Excuses. You’re just afraid of the reality of a relationship and the fact that you could get hurt, you’d rather have a romantic, lonely, pathetic fantasy.”

Derek opened his mouth to argue, but Cora interrupted him. “I don’t understand why what he said to Scott bothered you. Do you remember when I was sick, and I coughed so hard I tore something and started coughing up blood.” Cora flicked her gaze from Derek to the road, to Lydia, then back to the road. “Derek thought my lungs were bleeding, so he rushed me to the ER. When the police pulled him over for speeding, he threatened to rip the man’s throat out,” she paused for emphasis, “with his _teeth_.”

Lydia was now looking at Derek like he was the most ridiculous person she’d ever seen, so Derek decided to defend himself. “I was protecting Cora, it’s different.”

“Look, Sweetie.” Lydia was the picture of condescension. “I’ve known Stiles since we were ten. Yes, he’s mouthy, yes he’s more than a little creepy, but I don’t know anyone more loyal. Which means that when someone he trusts does something that makes him feel betrayed, he freaks out.” Lydia considered Derek for a moment. “Besides, you’re pretty creepy too. A match made in heaven.”

Derek was silent for the rest of the car journey, other than a mostly grunted good bye to Lydia. Once Cora started driving down the familiar street to Derek’s apartment, he realised that she had dropped Lydia off first on purpose, so he wasn’t surprised when she invited herself in.

“Break out the ice cream, it’s time for a sibling heart to heart.” Cora flopped down on the sofa, as Derek padded off the kitchen to get the ice cream and two spoons. Derek placed the lid carefully on the coffee table before joining Cora on the sofa. They each sat cross legged on one end of the sofa, facing each other with the tub of ice cream between them.

“I’m sorry I ruined your evening.” Derek stared at the ice cream he was stabbing repeatedly with his spoon, instead of looking up at Cora.

She rolled her eyes. “Like I give a fuck about that when you look like a half drowned puppy. Look, Derek, I talked to Scott while you were off moping, Stiles really does like you.” She ate several spoonfuls of ice cream as Derek let himself process that. “You deserve to be happy, whether or not that is with Stiles. Though I think between the two of you, it might be less like dating and more like mutual stalking.” Derek thumped her hand lightly with his spoon, and she laughed.

///

When Derek got up the next morning, he found Isaac lying on the sofa, fully dressed including his scarf, but somehow missing one shoe. At first Derek thought he was asleep, but Isaac groaned when he saw Derek. “Never let me drink ever again.”

Derek sighed. “There’s a pizza in the freezer that should help you soak up some of that hangover.”

“Uhg, no, just coffee please. I’m never going to eat again. Ever.”

After preparing the requested coffee, Derek poured himself a mug, and left one on the coffee table of Isaac for when he felt like moving. Then he retreated to his room, where there was significantly less groaning.

When he emerged again that afternoon, Isaac was gone, and the mug of coffee was half finished. From the murmurs coming from Isaac’s room, Derek guessed Isaac was in there marathoning Friends and still feeling like death. Derek fluffed the sofa pillows before settling down with his copy of A Game of Thrones, because he needed some characters whose lives were worse than his. Once he was about a hundred pages in, the doorbell rang, so Derek abandoned the book, open, face down on the coffee table.

Before he managed to get to the door, the bell rang again. “Oh come on! Derek! Get the fucking door!” Isaac shouted from his room.

Derek gritted his teeth and jogged the last few steps down the hall before ripping the door open. There was Stiles, in his hallway, holding a blue chukka boot in one hand. Struck by fear, Derek tried to slam the door shut in Stiles’s face, but Stiles wedged the shoe in the gap.

“Chill. I’m just here to give back Isaac’s shoe.”

Derek peeled the door open again. “Oh, um, thanks.” He reached for the shoe and for a moment their fingers touched. Then all Derek could do was stare at Stiles’s long, gorgeous fingers as they both held Isaac’s shoe.

“Come on Derek, talk to me. Please.” When Derek said nothing Stiles let go of the shoe and started gesticulating wildly. “I can't believe I committed a fucking felony for you.”

Derek could feel his eyebrows fly into hairline. For a moment Stiles looked distracted, following the movement of Derek’s eyebrows with his eyes, smiling a little. “Get in here,” Derek ordered, realising he didn’t want to treat the nosey old lady from 4A to a show. Stiles scowled again, but marched into the apartment after Derek.

Stiles chewed on his lower lip, opened his mouth to speak and pointed his finger at Derek, then closed it again and chewed on his lip again.

“Felony,” Derek reminded him, leaning in the doorframe that lead to the living room.

“Yes, that. I shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, Derek, it’s just.” Stiles flexed his hands like claws and groaned. “How could you think I wasn’t into you? I left you flirty answering machine messages, and covered for you instead of letting you fall on your face in front of Peter. I pretended I wanted to learn about _comments_ in _Java_ so I could get you behind my desk. You are the world’s most oblivious man!”

“How about you?” Derek roared indignantly. “The quickest way between my desk and Peter’s office is not by your desk.”

“Yeah, but it’s via Greenberg’s, and you don’t want to get stuck talking to him, he’ll sap the rest of your day. Like a day sucking vampire.”

Derek rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “How about all the times I tried to buy you soda.”

“Please tell me that ‘do you want a Mountain Dew’ does not mean ‘let’s bone’ in Derek-speak. That’s like the freaking enigma code.”

“Fine, then when I wrote you messages in my submissions. Or when I drove you home even though it was _forty five_ minutes out of my way.”

“I didn’t know! If that counts, then the fact that I intercepted the university’s request for your reference then wrote a glowing account of your work at Beacon Hills and then forged Peter’s signature counts too. That’s a felony, by the way. If that ever gets found out it could fuck up my dad’s chances at re-election.”

Derek hadn’t realised he had taken a few steps toward Stiles, who was standing very straight, making him as tall as Derek. “I quit my job with no other plan because I couldn’t stand the idea of seeing you happy with someone else.”

“And so you spent all of last night avoiding me. Naturally. That’s a totally normal reaction.” Stiles had now closed the space between them to jab his finger repeatedly into Derek’s chest. “Also, I went through all the police records that mention you at the station this morning. So I win!”

Derek leaned forward to growl something about invasion of privacy in Stiles’s face, but the intensity of Stiles’s gaze made him freeze. He looked down at Stiles’s lips as they moved rhythmically with his heavy breathing. Looking up at Stiles’s eyes again, Derek saw they were fixed on his lips, he leaned forward and suddenly they were kissing. It was a haze of knocking teeth and hands grabbing a little too tight. Derek didn’t register that Stiles was now backed up against the wall.

“I never thought I’d say this,” Isaac drawled, leaning against the door frame that Derek had abandoned. Stiles and Derek jumped apart. “But you really are creepier than Derek. Congratulations.” Then he bent down, picked up the forgotten shoe Stiles brought and tugged it on. “I’m going back to my bed. No more shouting.” Then Isaac slunk off, rubbing his head.

“I still think I might be creepier,” Derek said, leaning close to Stiles again. “I contemplated stealing the photo of you playing lacrosse from Scott’s desk.”

Stiles chuckled softly, smiling. “We should probably talk about our feelings or the fact that you were the prime suspect in your sister’s murder.” Stiles took a step forward, almost pinning Derek against the wall.

Derek tried not to look disappointed. “If that’s what you want.”

“No.” Then his hands were in Derek’s hair and his tongue was teasing its way into Derek’s mouth.

  
///

**SIX MONTHS LATER**   


Derek was originally unsure if he should be Stiles’s plus one to Erica and Boyd’s wedding, but Scott had convinced him, saying someone needed to make sure Stiles didn’t make a fool of himself when he inevitably got drunk. Scott couldn’t since he was Boyd’s guest and Stiles was Erica’s so they were going to be on opposite sides of the room for a significant portion of the day. So far, Derek had tried his best, but the job had been a lot harder than expected. The band was playing slow song after slow song, much to Stiles’s dismay. Apparently it was prohibiting him from 'getting his groove on.' After about an hour, he had started repeatedly requesting, in the loosest sense of the word, that they play 'something fun' like Call Me Maybe.

“I have a really great idea.” Stiles said, petting Derek’s hair as Derek lay with his head in Stiles’s lap in the set of chairs they had commandeered from dancing couples.

“Mmm?”

“I won’t tell you my first name until we get married.” Stiles didn’t seem to notice that Derek tensed a little at the statement. “Then, the moment when you’re going to say ‘I take thee insert name here’ will be the first time you say it out loud.” Derek snorted, and Stiles tapped him on the forehead. “Hear me out okay, you’ll mess it up really badly and look like a total dick. Then, later when I inevitably fall over my feet into the cake or spill wine all over your great aunt Matilda, or fall over during our first dance and take you with me, or say ‘I take thee Scott,’ or-”

“The point Stiles?” Derek leaned his head back to look Stiles in the face.

“Right, the point being that then we’ll both have made dicks of ourselves.” He smiled triumphantly as only the mildly intoxicated can.

It was a bit like spraying a kitten with a squirt gun, but Derek couldn’t help himself. “I don’t think that’s a very good plan.” He shrugged for effect.

Stiles gaped. “It’s a fantastic plan. You watch buddy. You won’t know my first name before that day and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Derek laughed heartily. “Am I going to have to pretend that I didn’t go through your wallet to get a look at your driver’s license the first time you spent the night?”

“You’re such an asshole. You’ve ruined our wedding and we’re not even engaged yet. I hate you,” Stiles said, his long fingers still running through Derek’s hair. Stiles jumped up, letting Derek’s head fall against the chair Stiles had been sitting in.

Since he was absolutely exhausted, Derek continued laying there and smiling to himself, not really caring what Stiles had gone off to do. It was a rookie mistake. The band stopped playing, and Derek heard Stiles’s familiar snarky voice arguing with the guitar player.

“Come _on_. Call Me Maybe, just once, that’s all I’m asking,” Stiles was saying.

“If it will get you to leave us alone, fine. Get up here and hold the mic, you’re singing,” the guitar player conceded.

Derek suddenly had flashbacks to Stiles singing that one line from Taylor Swift’s Twenty Two all that time ago at Beacon Hills. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible, happily not knocking over any chairs in the process. “Fuckity, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Derek mumbled to himself, making his way around the dance floor as the band started playing a tune that sounded vaguely like Call Me Maybe but definitely wasn’t. Then it got worse, Stiles started singing. To his credit, he knew the lyrics, well most of them. Derek broke into a run to try and stop whatever was going on as quickly as possible, but he was stopped the immovable force that is Boyd.

“You’re not stopping that,” Boyd said, grinning at Derek. He had been smiling all day; Derek was starting to wonder if Boyd was going to have to massage his usually underutilised smiling muscles the next day. “My cousin,” Boyd pointed at a young man holding a video camera near the dance floor, “is taping it. I want to preserve this forever.” Derek wanted to protest, and it must have shown in his face, because then Boyd continued, “It’s my wedding, my word is law.”

So Derek stood there, Boyd’s arm around his shoulder, his hand had a vicelike grip on the back of Derek’s neck, watching his boyfriend make the biggest possible fool of himself. It was strangely comforting.

“I’ll try to remember to send you a link when I get it up on YouTube,” Boyd said while thumping Derek on the back, once the guitarist had finally tired of the horror and persuaded Stiles to leave the stage. “Or better, I’ll send you a copy so you can play at your wedding.”

“Thanks,” Derek replied, and surprisingly he actually meant it.


End file.
